Now, who are you?

The other day after the girls woke up and had their cup of milk, I began the diaper routine. I put Monkey on the changing table, unsnapped her outfit, changed her sopping wet diaper, re-snapped her outfit, and sat her on the floor. I looked around to get Turtle and decided first to straighten up the bedding in the cribs a little. Then I picked up Monkey, put her on the changing table, unsnapped her outfit, opened her diaper, and it was totally dry. I was shocked and a little panicked. “How can your first diaper in the morning be dry?” I asked, looking at the face of baby on the table. Monkey. Whose diaper I just changed 60 seconds ago. I smothered Monkey with kisses and apologized profusely.

This type of thing happens more often than it should. When they were still newborns, sleeping in a co-sleeper next to our bed, I woke to one of them crying. Without opening my eyes or turning on the light, I stuck my hand in the co-sleeper, found a pacifier and tried to put it in the crying baby’s mouth. Over and over I tried to give it to her, but she wouldn’t take it. After a couple of minutes I got really frustrated and turned on the light, only to realize I was shoving a pacifier into a soundly sleeping baby’s face while the other baby cried and cried.

The current version goes something like this: I’m carrying a baby from one place to another and I think to myself, “Who do I have?” Then I look down and go, “Oh, it’s Turtle.” This happens a lot. And I always think, HOW can I “forget” who I’m carrying when I just picked the poor girl up? They look nothing alike, so it's not like I'm getting them mixed up. My mind is just moving on to the next thing I'm going to do so I lose track of what I'm doing right now. I can only hope that therapy for "my mom can't remember who I am" will be part of the next President's health care plan.